


let me let you go

by Finally_Home



Series: based on songs [3]
Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Emotional Turmoil, Heavier Themes, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Infidelity, M/M, Smoking, Song: Let Me Let You Go (Amuro Namie), Unhealthy Relationships, idk why i wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24650737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finally_Home/pseuds/Finally_Home
Summary: What do you do when you’re too deep in and can no longer remember yourself? What do you do if you’ve poisoned yourself and can’t find the antidote? Do you stop drinking and accept your fate, or do you drink more because you’re dying either way?
Relationships: Jung Yunho/Shim Changmin
Series: based on songs [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1755427
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	let me let you go

**Author's Note:**

> [amuro namie - let me let you go](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lZ6WPaOOUqc)

_I don't wanna hang onto this love no more_

Cherry syrup always leaves a vaguely medicinal aftertaste in his mouth. Yunho always forgets this, but as always, Changmin downs the cocktail anyway. The other man fingers the fancy paper umbrella in his mojito, eyes distant, and finally pushes it across the table. “I don’t know why I even got this. Recipe for disaster, anything more than beer.”

Changmin takes the alcohol with a brief smile. “You wanted to get wasted, duh.” He takes a sip, swirls the straw around, pulls a mild face of disgust. “Eugh, too sweet.”

“Right.” Yunho props his head in his hands. His lips are soft, pink, curling up slightly at the ends. “You don’t like sweet things”—Changmin can recite the next words with him—“I forgot.”

 _I forgot._ It’s always the same words, the same lame excuse. Changmin shakes his head, taking another drink of the too-sweet alcohol. He’s used to it by now, given up on asking him to remember. It’s not really Yunho’s fault, not really, not when the man’s always so busy at the firm with stacks of papers to go through and the telephone always ringing off the hook. No, it’s not really his fault.

But sometimes it does hurt, just a bit. Yunho leans over, plucks a mint leaf from the glass, places it into his mouth with a wry smile that makes Changmin’s cheeks flush with heat. It was this smile, this beautiful twist of his perfect lips, that sent him diving headfirst into infatuation. Neon pink it exploded, hearts swimming in his eyes and hovering over his head, as the dancer caught his eye, sent him a lip bite and a smile. The sultry siren grinding his hips on center stage, eyes half-lidded, movements fluid with the music. The club was dark, loud, chaotic, but Changmin saw stars and could not look away.

That was the night he met Jung Yunho, the son of a successful lawyer in a city three hours away. Jung Yunho, who was majoring in dance while on track for pre-law. Jung Yunho, who was two years older than him and not in a frat but danced so well he was allowed entrance to any party he wanted, who could charm the panties off any girl he wanted, as long as he wanted, who wore round glasses and thick sweaters and studied harder than anyone he’d ever seen. Jung Yunho, the brightest star in the sky of Changmin’s life and world. They met by chance, but by god, was it fate, Changmin’s best friend dragging him over to introduce himself and he recognized him, tilted his head and ran a finger down his cheek and laughed and said, yes, it’s nice to meet you, Shim Changmin.

Changmin, it turned out, could hold his alcohol. Yunho, it turned out, could not, so they met more often in the cafe across the street from the frat houses than in the frat houses themselves. Yunho preferred a strawberry milkshake, Changmin still remembers, sat there with hands wrapped in his sleeves wrapped around the glass while Changmin sipped his vanilla latte and watched him and smiled. Yunho was always very sweet, asking about his classes and teachers and though Changmin was a math major, Yunho understood everything he talked about and nodded at all the right times and smiled in all the right places.

When had they first started to become a thing? It must have been when Yunho went to the parties less and less, flirted with the pretty girls less and less, and started to spend more time in the library with Changmin, both wearing glasses and thick sweaters because the school couldn’t be bothered to turn the heat up a little more, breaths fogging the glass and drawing messages for the people outside to read before the condensation faded. It must have been then, when Yunho found him sitting in the garden dazedly looking at nothing and bought him ice cream from the school store and held his hand and listened to him talk about a girl he’d never known found dead in a car crash back home. It must have been, it must have been then, when Yunho invited him over to his flat that he shared with three other people and kept his arm around his waist the entire time and then pressed their foreheads together and sighed and said Changmin, you’re really pretty.

Yes… it must have been then. Changmin looks up from his empty glass, world tilting just a little bit. The distinctive blue glow of a cell phone lights Yunho’s face, and a deep frown graces his face. Changmin knows what’s coming next, has the script ready and memorized.

 _Changmin, I’m sorry._ “Changmin, I’m sorry.” _Something came up at the last minute, do you mind if we cut tonight short?_ “Something came up very suddenly, do you mind if I go home first?” _I’m really sorry, I wanted us to have a good time._ “I’m sorry, I really wanted us to have some time to ourselves.”

He cuts him off by standing. Yunho’s eyes widen, but Changmin only smiles, putting a hand underneath his chin. He can feel the rough prick of stubble on his fingertips. “It’s okay,” he says, leaning in enough to kiss his forehead. “You’re busy, I understand. Let’s go home.”

_Tired of being tangled in this mess_

If love was a red string connected between two people, Changmin would have one, knotted tightly at the end, crimson on Jung Yunho’s ring finger. Yunho, on the other hand, would have the broken, torn, cut, faded ends of many shades of red all over his hands and arms. Around his wrist, his fingers, even up to his elbows. He would look like a marionette of love, manipulated or the manipulator, that beautiful slash of a grin on his face, reaching out with wooden joints and porcelain skin, and Changmin would still go with him.

Women still fall head over heels for him, this Changmin knows. Yunho finds entertainment in toying with their feelings, this Changmin also knows. He makes a spontaneous stop at the law firm one day, lunch in hand, and the secretary takes one look at him and flushes, refusing to meet his eye as she calls the office to inform them that ‘Mr. Jung’s husband is here.’ He almost doesn’t understand until he makes his way up the stairs and knocks, and Yunho opens the door flushed and breathless, and his partner Ms. Kwon sends him a tight smile and leaves the room, heels clicking loudly on the tile floor.

It takes an instant, the numbness rushing down his spine and his heart doused and dumped in ice. He thinks he gets it, thinks he knows why Yunho’s collar is rumpled and unbuttoned, thinks he sees the beginnings of a bruise forming on his collarbones, swallows around the sudden and suffocating lump in his throat, shoves the food into his arms and turns to leave, but Yunho’s hand is on his wrist, gripping so tightly he hisses in pain, pulls him back in and closes the door with a resounding click, says Changmin, it’s not what you think.

What’s not what I think, he hears his own voice, cold and flat, and Yunho flinches, fingers tightening. I’ve suspected for a while, why you’re never hungry when you come home, why you drink even though you can’t, why--

His voice breaks, knees giving out for a moment. Yunho takes the chance, gathers him into his arms. He’s strong, sturdy, still smells like the vanilla cologne that they share. Yves St. Laurent, Changmin’s present to him one Christmas some years ago. He’d been so happy, surprised to the point of tears, and wiped his face on Changmin’s shirt, saying he didn’t have to spend so much and we don’t have the money to spare anyway. This was before the firm gained reputation, back when it was built on a shaky foundation and two friends tired of working for someone else. They really didn’t have the money to spare, but Yunho deserved it, Changmin thought, and kissed the soft hair in front of his face and said but I love you.

Changdol, Yunho murmurs, though he struggles to break free of his grip. Changdol, I promise, it’s not what you think, none of it is--

Don’t call me that! He throws off Yunho’s arms, stumbles backwards into the sharp corner of a filing cabinet and barely feels the pain for the agony overtaking his heart. He’s burning at the stake, too hot on the outside and too cold on the inside, eyes dry with either anger or betrayal, and it’s all he can do to hold himself afloat as the bitter truth threatens to drag him down to the ocean floor. Blindly he gropes for the handle of the door, but Yunho blocks it, eyes pleading. Just listen to me, Changdol, please, I can explain--

Stop. He doesn’t know the person speaking, though the words come from his own mouth. Move. I’m leaving.

To Yunho’s neverending credit, and something Changmin’s always admired in him, the man refuses to move, stubbornly planting the heels of his fancy lawyer shoes into the carpet. If I let you go now, he says quietly, I’ll never get you back. Changmin, it was a misunderstanding. I was exercising - he gestures at the little five-pound weights sitting on the desk - Boa came in, my hand slipped and I ended up dropping it on myself. We were trying to see whether or not I’d have to go to the hospital.

Logical? Yes, sure, but so have been his other excuses. Changmin doesn’t know who to believe anymore. Yunho’s eyes are clear and wide, the sunshine filtering through the blinds striking gold into his irises as he kneels. Changmin, he says, never breaking eye contact. Believe me. I wouldn’t lie to you.

It’s his fault, Changmin knows, his fault and his own, as he reaches down to pull Yunho to his feet. He’s too soft, too in love, never been able to withstand begging because really, that’s what Yunho does, he begs, knowing that Changmin would forgive him every time, using his kindness to his advantage, but whose fault is that? Changmin forgives him every time, and this time is no exception.

I believe you.

_Pulling down the curtain_

They fight like the world is ending, loud and violent and overlaid in a red haze, on the verge of culminating in murder, but they always make up. They make up like the world is ending too, loud and rough in a tangle of bedsheets and limbs, bruises blossoming under iron grips and fingertips, and inevitably, they fall asleep in the mess that they created, nothing finished, nothing solved.

Rinse and then repeat. The lipstick stains on Yunho’s starched white collar, the colleague at work that Changmin can’t stop mentioning, Yunho’s business partner Boa, Changmin’s best friend Kyuhyun, Yunho’s childhood friend Hojun, Changmin’s supervisor Victoria. The atmosphere at home fluctuates daily, sometimes warm and amicable, other times frosty and sensitive. Sometimes Changmin ignores Yunho, other times it’s the other way around. Sometimes Yunho’s the first to apologize, other times it’s Changmin. Sometimes neither makes the first move and they fall asleep in separate rooms, other times one of them grabs the other and they fall into bed with a moan and a hiss. Sometimes they talk about it, but most times they don’t.

If you asked Yunho, he’d say it’s the natural way of life, it’s how all arguments go and how all families work. If you asked Changmin, he’d say it’s because there’s no need to elaborate, they each know the truth and it is what it is. But if you pressed, Yunho would sigh, rub a hand across his face, and admit that it’s what their relationship was based on, a mutual need for validation and the same burning jealousy. Changmin would sigh, lay a hand across his eyes, and admit that they were simultaneously too similar and yet too different, but neither wanted to let go.

What do you do when you’re too deep in and can no longer remember yourself? He asks himself this, lying in bed one night, combing his fingers through Yunho’s hair as he sleeps. What do you do if you’ve poisoned yourself and can’t find the antidote? Do you stop drinking and accept your fate, or do you drink more because you’re dying either way? He sighs through his nose, brushes the tips of his fingers over Yunho’s delicate eyelashes, and steps out onto the balcony. 

He hasn’t smoked in a long time. The tip glows red with each puff he takes, pale smoke rising into the night lit rainbow by Seoul’s city lights. Red and blue and yellow and white in the background, in front of his eyes. A breeze blows by, lifting his hair, and Changmin reaches out, tries to grab it and keep it, but how do you keep something that was meant to be free in the first place? How do you tie something down that was never meant to be tied down?

How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?

Soft footsteps sound behind him. Changmin holds the cigarette over his left shoulder, and Yunho takes it, chin dipping down to rest in the groove between bones. You said you quit.

I did. One’s not going to get me back in.

It might. It could. Yunho’s hand comes up, splays across his chest, warm and steady and solid, and he laughs, puffing a bit of smoke in Changmin’s ear. You’re still here. I’m glad.

A pause, ripe with unfinished words. Changmin stays silent, knowing Yunho will continue on his own, and after another smoky sigh, he does. I’m so scared I’ll lose you, he murmurs, pressing his cheek into Changmin’s neck. I don’t want to wake up and find you missing, the other side of the bed cold. I can’t not have you.

Something in Changmin’s eyes sting, and he looks out at the city, tries not to focus on the way Yunho’s stomach presses against his back, warm and comforting and all too familiar, and chokes out yeah? That so?

But he can’t not have Yunho either, and they both know. It’s something odd about their relationship, one out of many that outsiders can never hope to understand. Regardless of how they fight, no matter what Yunho does, whoever Changmin talks about, their roots are entangled in each other. The line that they can never cross, will never cut away from their hearts, the deepest secret hidden in the darkest corner of the closet. It will always be each other. Neither can die while the other one lives. Changmin would traverse Hell for him, dive into the oceans of fire and burn with the souls of the condemned, if it meant reaching out to Yunho, and he knows the other man would do the same for him.

They fight to what seems like an ugly death, but would unhesitatingly seal a deal with the devil for the other. It’s odd, like them, like their relationship, but it’s a deep entanglement that neither can easily walk away from. It’s always Yunho, eyes dark with possession, smile dangerous with warning. It’s always him, his fingers around his wrist, thighs between his legs. It’s him, always, sitting at the kitchen table laughing, lying on the couch sleeping, eyes closed, crinkled, beautiful. It’s him, for Changmin, always.

He’ll always come back to him.

_I don't wanna hope for something that ain't working_

Yunho doesn’t drink, but he orders a mint julep anyway and turns to Changmin with a smile. “What do you want?”

Knowing Yunho, he’ll take a sip out of each drink and then push both to Changmin anyway. “A strawberry daiquiri,” he tells the bartender. “Virgin.”

“Aw, Changdol!” Yunho takes his hand under the table, eyes sparkling even in the dim light of the bar. “Is that for me? Did you make it virgin for me?”

He rolls his eyes, allowing a small smile to slip through. “Yes, idiot,” he says, voice soft, as Yunho goes to town on the free beer nuts on the counter. “Who else would take care of you like this?”

Yunho hums. “You’re right.” His voice has dropped an octave and at least ten decibels. Changmin has to strain to hear him above the noise in the background. “No one else would. No one else would keep being with me through all my bullshit.” His head dips so low that his hair brushes the countertop. “I don’t deserve you.”

No one deserves me, Changmin thinks, but puts a hand on Yunho’s back. “I married you because I love you. If I didn’t love you anymore, I wouldn’t still be here.”

When Yunho raises his head again, tears shine in his eyes. They look like diamonds, reflecting the lights of the bar, and for a moment, Changmin forgets how to breathe. The moment is rudely interrupted by the bartender sliding their drinks over, and Changmin blinks, looks away. Yunho’s hand reaches out to take both drinks, sipping from each with a hint of a crooked grin on his face.

“Ew, alcohol.” His eyes are laughing, crinkled at the corners, and Changmin smiles, takes the mint julep from his hands. “Changdol. I love you.”

Changmin’s heart hurts something terrible. He doesn’t mention the video that Yunho’s friend had sent him of Yunho and Boa kissing, doesn’t mention the divorce papers wrinkled from being clutched too hard in his car, doesn’t mention the overseas offer that he turned down to stay at home. With him. He doesn’t mention any of it, only raises the glass to his lips and relishes the burn of alcohol sliding down his throat.

“I love you too,” he says, the amber liquid in the glass half-empty. “I love you, Jung Yunho. You’re driving, I’m gonna get wasted.”

He usually doesn’t get drunk enough to abandon logic, but maybe it’s the fact that he wants to. Yunho only sits across from him, pain in his eyes, as he orders more alcohol. After the fourth drink or so - a whiskey sour - Yunho grabs his hand and shakes his head at the bartender. “We’re going home, Changdol.”

He’s not rough, but nor is he gentle, shoving Changmin’s arms into his coat and dragging him out of the bar. Changmin follows, staggering as the concrete gives away beneath his feet, giggles as he falls and rips his jeans on the sidewalk.

“Yunhoooo,” he calls, though Yunho hadn’t let go of his hand. “Yunho, carry me. Kiss me, I’m a princess. I wanna be your princess, the only one for you, my white horse on a prince-- white prince on a horse-- prince on a white horse--”

Yunho’s eyes are filled with pain, but he bends down, picks him up in a bridal style, and carries him all the way to the car. Changmin’s not particularly light, but Yunho doesn’t complain, only stuffs him in the backseat, buckles his seatbelt, and drives off.

“Yunho, look at me,” Changmin mumbles. He feels a bit lightheaded, buzzed and excited with too much energy in his middle-aged body. “Yunho, Yunho, Yunho, Jung fucking Yunho, you’re mine and mine only, got it? You’re mine, no one else can have you, alright?” He swallows, wipes away some of the drool sliding down his chin. “I love you so much, but you don’t love me at all.”

“Said who?” Yunho’s voice is quiet. The red of the traffic light casts sharp shadows on his face, and he looks oddly serious. Deadly. Angry. Beautiful. “I love you, Shim Changmin. I love you so much that I can’t control myself. You’re the only person in my life, Changdol.”

“I know I’m not,” Changmin slurs, head lolling to the side. He’s so tired, physically and emotionally, exhausted, and also not as drunk as he’d like to be. “I just wish I was.”

He remembers the divorce papers in the car. Should he mention it? The light turns green, the engine revs. Yunho lets out a short sigh. “I don’t know what people are telling you,” he says, “but it’s not true. Changdol, they want to knock me off my post, they want me to be miserable, and they’re using you to do it. Don’t believe them, any of them.”

But Changmin knows what he saw. He doesn’t know who or what to believe anymore. Outside, the streetlights blur into a single line of orange, burning his eyes as they exit onto the highway. The car rocks slightly, and Changmin closes his eyes. Does it even matter anymore? He’ll never be able to let him go, would ruin himself if he went through with the divorce, would never show him the papers unless Yunho himself presented his own. He’s a coward, a fool, an idiot in love, but it’s what he deserves.

He just can’t seem to quit him.

_Let me let you go_

**Author's Note:**

> i am NOT saying you should stay in an unhealthy relationship because you can't bear to let the other person go; in fact, if you're in an unhealthy relationship, i wish you the courage and determination to [leave and find your own happiness.](https://www.sanluisobispo.com/living/family/linda-lewis-griffith/article39442185.html)
> 
> on that note, i am not in an unhealthy relationship so i don't really know why i wrote this or if i even wrote it right, so to say. i guess i wanted to cover some heavier themes and we all know they've said before that they fight like the sky is falling down but then realize they can't do tvxq without each other. they've always had an interesting dynamic; changmin gets pissy whenever yunho mentions son hojun and yunho gets pissy whenever changmin mentions kyuhyun. now changmin has a girlfriend, and i guess i just wonder about what goes on behind the scenes with them.
> 
> gdi why do i always somehow make boa the enemy in all my fics?? i actually do love her i promise :(( anyway, i hope i could properly convey the emotional turmoil that changmin feels and his frustration with yunho's never-ending excuses.
> 
> in the end, this is a work of fiction; my intentions were never to romanticize unhealthy relationships, and if you are in an [unhealthy](https://www.healthyplace.com/relationships/unhealthy-relationships/what-to-do-about-an-unhealthy-relationship) [relationship](https://www.myjewishlearning.com/here-now/unhealthy-relationships-the-signs-what-to-do-about-it/), i hope you are able to [seek help and/or leave](https://www.plannedparenthood.org/learn/relationships/healthy-relationships/what-makes-relationship-unhealthy).
> 
> (i also wrote this with [nflying's oh really](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kT3Swso1is0) on repeat. go stream, stan nflying, stan k-rock uwu)


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